


a beautiful and a burning thing

by possibilityleft



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 20:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/pseuds/possibilityleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ninth Doctor, pre-Rose, meets Donna Noble, post Journey's End.  <em>He's only been on the planet for twenty minutes when a red-headed woman walks up to him and slaps him hard on the cheek.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	a beautiful and a burning thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Clocketpatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clocketpatch/gifts).



> With thanks to K., who gave me two brilliant lines of dialogue to get me started.

The Doctor hasn't been back to Earth for a hundred years, subjective time. He thinks that he's spent too much time there in recent years. Maybe if he'd spent less time on Earth, more time playing politics on Gallifrey, the Time War wouldn't have have gotten so bad so quickly. It is a stupid idea and he knows that he would have hated that, and that it wouldn't have worked. But it's funny, the ideas you cling to when you have nothing else left.

He's traveling without a companion, just him and the TARDIS. She's needed quite a while to recover. The Doctor didn't have a scratch on him, not after the regeneration. He occasionally wishes that he'd hung on to that old body, the scars and all their stories. But he couldn't wear velvet waistcoats anymore. The leather jacket doesn't keep him warm enough as is.

So it's been a century, probably. The thing about Earth is that it doesn't matter when you show up, or where, something will be happening. This is of course true for thousands of planets in the galaxy, but he blends the best with humans. So he tells himself.

Right now, he likes that they're not remotely psychic, except for some rare individuals. The silence in his head is to be expected.

He's only been on the planet for twenty minutes when a red-headed woman walks up to him and slaps him hard on the cheek.

"You ponce!" she says. "You -- you -- _thief_!" She follows with a few other choice words.

Once upon a time, the Doctor would have responded with a joke, or a grin. This Doctor clenches his fists in his pockets and glowers at her, which doesn't stop her tirade.

"I have never seen you before in my life," he chokes out finally.

"Well of course you haven't!" she says, throwing up her arms as if exasperated. "Haven't done it yet, have you? The skinny git is _next_ on the list. Tenth."

A shiver runs down the Doctor's spine.

"Who _are_ you?" he demands, and she folds her arms and actually smiles at him.

"I'm the Doctor Donna," she announces.

*

She tells him that the least he can do is buy her a cup of tea, and although he doesn't think he owes her anything, he has to know what's going on. At least, the best he can without learning too much about his own future. (He is a little surprised that he has one, still.)

They sit down in a little cafe together. The Doctor wraps both hands around his teacup, ignoring the heat on his fingers.

"You're not a Time Lord," he says, meeting her eyes.

"What, we couldn't do any catching up first? I haven't seen you since you ran off and left me here without so much as a by your leave."

The Doctor is beginning to think that he can't really blame himself for doing it. Donna shakes her head impatiently.

"In any case, I'm a human-Time Lord metacrisis. Had a bit of an incident with your severed hand." She shudders. "That never gets any more pleasant to think about either."

"Is that so?" the Doctor asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"It's just as weird for me!" Donna protests. "I remember being you if I try hard enough, all angry leather jacket and the world on my shoulders. Alone."

The Doctor leans back in his chair, face stony. He crosses his arms.

"A human-Time Lord metacrisis isn't possible," he says. "So why don't you tell me what this is all about, really. Before I leave."

"Well, that's what you thought. Will think." She makes a face as if she's bitten into something sour. "Not enough tenses in English. Big stupid brain of yours has messed up my ability to speak. Anyway, the problem is, there's nowhere for all the excess energy to go, right? The human brain can't handle all the extra dimensions, and I wasn't in any position to sort it out. So you panicked and erased my memory. Cleared it all out."

She puts her hands on her hips, and even though she's sitting down, the Doctor finds it a bit imposing. It's been a while since he's found anyone imposing. He's intrigued by her story, even if he still isn't sure he can believe it.

"And yet here you are, slapping me for something I haven't done yet," he says, since she seems to expect an answer.

"I'm saving one for him too," she says, smiling a little. "Off guilt-tripping himself across the universe, I suppose. It'd be more effective if he were here and I could do it for him. Anyway, I sorted out the problem. Does the TARDIS need a bit of a charge while I'm here? Power's a bit excessive to put into normal circuits. I've been releasing it into the dirt, mostly, and she's much cleaner. Usually."

"Hey!" the Doctor protests, but before he can get any further in rebuttal, the front window to the cafe explodes. Now this, this is more what he expects when he comes to visit Earth.

*

There are aliens in the street and the world is filled with screaming. The Doctor is on the step, screwdriver in hand, when Donna elbows her way past him.

"Make sure everyone is okay in the shop. Glass is everywhere," she says to him, lifting up an implement that resembles a screwdriver, if he squints. It's been welded together out of half a dozen different electrical implements and he's pretty sure that not all of them are made from Earth technology.

"Are you kidding?" the Doctor asks. He follows after her. She's wearing sensible shoes and he's pretty sure she just said, "I can't take you _anywhere_ ," but he's choosing to ignore it.

Instead, he laughs, and his heart doesn't feel so heavy.

*

It takes two days, three near-death experiences, and four explosions to resolve the matter of the Maltonians, and Donna is by the Doctor's side the whole way. He's quickly figured out that it's impossible to change her mind. He kind of admires her obstinacy, at least when it isn't in direct conflict with his own. They bump heads at every opportunity, but at least they can laugh about it later.

"I'm dying for a cuppa," Donna says as the Doctor unlocks the TARDIS door. He shrugs and lets her come in. She knows her way to the kitchen, at least, and she puts the kettle on and settles comfortably into one of the mismatched chairs around the table. The Doctor sits down across from her without glancing in her direction. He drums his fingers on the tabletop. Donna ignores him and the silence is comfortable for once, instead of imposing. After days of argument and nights of no sleep, they have a moment to breathe, and share it with each other.

The kettle whistles. Donna gets up and pours the tea, her back to the Doctor. He is surprised when she sets a second chipped cup in front of him and slides back into her seat.

"You're not alone," Donna says. "I know it's hard to believe, but you have to trust me on this."

The Doctor scoffs, and Donna scoffs back. "Shut up and listen for once. I don't want to tell you too much, but keep going. You're not alone. You'll see soon enough."

"Wasn't planning on stopping," the Doctor says after a moment's hesitation. He takes a sip of his tea and it burns his throat a little as he swallows.

"Good," Donna says firmly. "Second thing. I'm tired of waiting around, so try to remember to come back. Say, six months after you left the last time. About a week from now."

"I'll see what I can do," the Doctor says. He doesn't know how to feel about her request. He doesn't come back for his companions. It's for the best, really. He's not sure that they would think so.

"Good," Donna says. "You know, for a man who can travel in time, you're still always late."

"I'm always on time," the Doctor answers. "Maybe you're early."

"Excuses, excuses," Donna says, but she smiles. "I need to go home and take a shower. Two showers. Those aliens were slimy."

"Good luck," the Doctor says, and he means it.

"I'll see you again," she says, "and that's a promise."

On her way out she lays a hand on the console and the TARDIS greets her. He doesn't say anything about it. After she goes, he pulls out his tools and begins to tinker, enjoying the quiet.

Maybe he'll stick around Earth for a little while longer.


End file.
